The matter is obvious: by repeated tiny bites, similar to the tweaks which we saw distributed at the outset, the flesh of the mollusc is converted into a gruel on which the various banqueters nourish themselves without distinction, each working at the broth by means of some special pepsine and each taking his own mouthfuls of it. In consequence of this method, which first converts the food into a liquid, the Glow-worm's mouth must be very feebly armed apart from the two fangs which sting the patient and inject the anaesthetic poison and, at the same time, no doubt, the serum capable of turning the solid flesh into fluid. These two tiny implements, which can just be examined through the lens, must, it seems, have some other object. They are hollow and in this resemble those of the Ant-lion, which sucks and drains its capture without having to divide it; but there is this great difference, that the Ant-lion leaves copious remnants, which are afterwards flung outside the funnel-shaped trap dug in the sand, whereas the Glow-worm, that expert liquefier, leaves nothing, or next to nothing. With similar tools, the one simply sucks the blood of its prey and the other turns every morsel of his to account, thanks to a preliminary liquefaction. And this is done with exquisite precision, though the equilibrium is sometimes anything but steady. My rearing-glasses supply me with magnificent examples. Crawling up the sides, the Snails imprisoned in my apparatus sometimes reach the top, which is closed with a glass pane, and fix themselves to it by means of a speck of glair. This is a mere temporary halt, in which the mollusc is miserly with its adhesive product, and the merest shake is enough to loosen the shell and send it to the bottom of the jar. Now it is not unusual for the Glow-worm to hoist himself to the top, with the help of a certain climbing-organ that makes up for his weak legs. He selects his quarry, makes a minute inspection of it to find an entrance-slit, nibbles it a little, renders it insensible and, without delay, proceeds to prepare the gruel which he will consume for days on end. When he leaves the table, the shell is found to be absolutely empty; and yet this shell, which was fixed to the glass by a very faint stickiness, has not come loose, has not even shifted its position in the smallest degree: without any protest from the hermit gradually converted into broth, it has been drained on the very spot at which the first attack was delivered. These small details tell us how promptly the anaesthetic bite takes effect; they teach us how dexterously the Glow-worm treats his Snail without causing him to fall from a very slippery vertical support and without even shaking him on his slight line of adhesion.